


Lucky (On Hold)

by Beneath_the_Trees



Category: Heathers (1988), Heathers: The Musical - Murphy & O'Keefe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Angst with a Happy Ending, Closeted Kurt Kelly is Forced Out of the Closest, Crying, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Happy Ending, Everything's Changed, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Happy Endings Aren't Easy, Hurt/Comfort, Kurt's Dad is an Ass, Kurt's a Mess, M/M, Mental Instability, Mentions of Suicide, Near Death Experiences, Panic Attacks, Platonic Love, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Ram was his Anchor, Ram's not doing so hot, Redemption, Self-Hatred, Touch-Starved Kurt Kelly, mental and physical abuse, self-depreciative thoughts, these kids need hugs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-14
Updated: 2018-01-15
Packaged: 2019-02-14 20:06:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 12,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13015167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beneath_the_Trees/pseuds/Beneath_the_Trees
Summary: “You two were lucky”That was what Heather Chandler had written when Kurt returned to school while Ram was still in intensive care from the bullet in his chest. “Lucky”, she said. Kurt wasn’tlucky.His father’s beatings only got worse, his teammates shunned and sneered, and his best friend- the one he thought had been killed before his very eyes- was still balancing at the edge of death row.Kurt’s life was turned upside down in one night, and Heather Chandler, the girl who lost her voice but kept her status at the very top of the food chain, thought he waslucky.If he wasn’t falling apart into a billion pieces, he would have laughed until he died.





	1. Prologue

Whispers were the first thing Kurt could remember after he was shot by JD. He remembered them being a string of white noise until they turned to shouts and words were formed.

“Our sons are _pansies_ , Bill!” Kurt heard his father snarl venomously, and it was like he was being shot all over again. “You can’t tell me that doesn’t bother you!”

“It certainly doesn’t _disgust_ me!” Ram’s father snapped in turn, but Kurt could barely register the words as his head swam. How had his dad found out? Kurt had been so, so careful to keep the fact he liked guys a secret. What gave him away?

His mind raced as he tried to think through every single action he had done recently, and his thoughts screeched to a halt as he came to the graveyard. Veronica. JD. Gunshots. Ram- oh god, _Ram._

Kurt’s body reacted immediately, eyes snapping open as he shot up only to double over again as his abdomen screamed in pain. Kurt had to bite back a groan, not wanting his father to hear. Bill and Paul had stopped arguing, at the very least.

“Kurt!” Ram’s father gasped, and Kurt felt hands on his shoulders, gently pushing him back down. “You shouldn’t move.” He chided, and Kurt could only nod as he looked around the room, trying to find the only one he cared about at the moment.

“Hey, you’re okay now, son.” Bill spoke softly, misreading the frantic glances around the hospital room. Kurt shook his head, trying to get his mouth to work properly. He felt like it was filled with cotton, his tongue sticking to the roof of his mouth.

“Wh- Where’s Ram?” He asked, looking at Bill, hoping he didn't look too desperate to know where his friend was. If Ram had died-

Kurt forced that thought to stop right there. 

Bill pursed his lips into a thin line, eyes flickering away from Kurt, and while it made Kurt's stomach flip he follow his gaze to Paul. Kurt felt his face burn with shame as his dad’s disapproving, angry gaze latched onto him, but he fought the urge to look away. “Where’s Ram?” He asked again, trying hard to ignore how his voice shook and needing to know his eyes played tricks on him in the graveyard.

He needed to know if Ram made it.

The hard look on his father’s face cracked, and Kurt felt his stomach flip as Bill started speaking again, his eyes snapping back to his best friend's father. He looked crushed.

No, no no no nonono _no!_

Ram’s lifeless body flashed through Kurt’s mind, falling to the ground like a ragdoll, blood pooling from beneath him as Kurt’s fight-or-flight kicked into high gear and he bolted, bullets flying by his ear-

“Ram’s still unconscious and in intensive care.” Bill’s voice broke through, as if dumping a bucket of ice water over Kurt’s head.

Somehow, Kurt didn’t feel relieved.

“…Is he gonna be okay?” He asked softly- far too softly for him to be able to cover it up later as just nerves. He was afraid to look away from Bill’s face and see what his dad’s reaction was. “He’s gotta be okay, right? H-He can’t just-“

Bill rested a hand on his shoulder, grounding Kurt and allowing him the ability to take a deep breath and calm his racing heart. “The doctors said it’s too early to tell. It may take awhile.”

“How long is ‘awhile’?” Kurt asked, stomach twisting into knots the longer he spoke to their dads. Was he throwing away any doubt his father had about his sexuality by sounding this panicked? He felt sick.

“Just rest, Kurt.” Kurt’s father said, making Kurt’s eyes snap to him. The cracks were still there, poorly concealed and steadily growing.

A dismissal; a warning to shut up and stay quiet.

Kurt’s head spun again. He felt like there was a hole in his chest, throbbing and growing with each pulse of pain that came from his own wound.

He struggled to swallow the lump in his throat, mouth somehow even drier than before as he slumped into the deflated pillows on the hospital bed. He listened as Bill and his father continued to talk, but he couldn’t register the words- didn’t _want_ to register the words. He knew they were about him and Ram.

Soon, Bill and Paul left, and Kurt was alone.

Silence descended upon the room, and he slowly looked around it again, taking in the wilting flowers on the table next to him, not having even been put in water, and the small, handwritten card perched against them for him to see.

_Get Better Soon_

The writing was familiar, but Kurt couldn’t remember just who’s it was. He didn’t want to. He inhaled through his nose, looking up at the ceiling and trying to push away the sudden pressure behind his eyes. He was alive. JD didn’t kill him. Ram was going to be okay.

So why did his world already feel like it was crumbling?


	2. Returning Home

Kurt was being suffocated.

The silence in the car as his father drove them back to their house was definitely on the way to killing Kurt faster than the beatings his dad had planned for him. He carefully took a deep breath, trying to get air into his lungs as quietly as he could. His hands haven’t managed to stop shaking since he first woke up.

Exhaustion tugged at him, trying to drag him under for much needed rest, but his head was pounding far too hard, far too quickly, and just the thought of falling asleep _terrfied_ Kurt. He tried not to catch his dad’s attention as he wrapped his hands around his waist and dug his fingers into the tender flesh of the still-healing bullet wound, not wanting to sleep. He wasn’t _safe_. If he fell asleep near his dad he didn’t know what would happen.

His father could attack him while he slept, could leave him there in the car, vulnerable for anyone walking by who might want to finish the job JD started—

Hell, as far as Kurt knew, _JD_ could just walk by and finish the job.

He felt his breath catch in his lungs, panic attempting to claw up his throat. He jerked his hands away from the mostly-healed wound like they had burned him, knowing his arms had started to shake even more violently.

He could feel his dad’s eyes on him now, and Kurt grit his teeth, not sure what to do and not wanting him to see.

He squeezed his eyes shut tight, taking another deep breath as he curled his hands into fists. The trembling only became more violent, rattling his bones all the way up to his shoulders, but at least the physical shakes stopped long enough for Paul’s gaze to drift away.

They hadn’t spoken any actual words to each other after that first train wreck of a conversation when Kurt had woken up, or when Paul told him to change and that he was going home today. It put Kurt on edge.

No one had come to visit in his short, conscious stay at the hospital, and no one told him just what had happened after the shots were fired and Kurt fell unconscious. He was left in the dark over the very thing that concerned him, and if that wasn’t bad enough, he wasn’t allowed to see Ram.

It was like his mother’s death all over again.

Pressure was starting to build behind his eyes again, and Kurt clenched his teeth together so hard his jaw ached. He had to stop thinking. Had to stop breaking down in front of his father when he was already on thin ice; when he had no way to escape.

He counted the seconds to when they’d finally be home and he could get away from his dad, only opening his eyes again when the car slowed down. He couldn’t stop the relieved sigh that escaped him when he saw his house, ominous as it was.

Kurt did his best to get out of the car calmly, afraid that if he ran for the door his dad would be even angrier at him. He couldn’t show weakness; couldn't let his dad think he was a sissy.

He trailed behind his father, slipping past and heading for the stairs when he was inside.

“Kurt.”

Kurt froze, body tensing without his permission as he turned to face his dad. “Yeah?”

His father stared at him coldly, and Kurt could feel the hair on the back of his neck starting to stand on end. After a few moments, Paul shook his head and turned away, mumbling a quiet, “Get out of my sight.”

The air was knocked right out of his lungs. Kurt nodded stiffly even though his father couldn’t see it, climbing up the stairs as calmly as he could before running the rest of the way to his room.

He threw open the door, freezing in place as he took in the chaos that had ensued while he was away.

His entire room was a mess. His bed had been stripped bare and flipped over, the sheets scattered in a corner, and all his books, clothes, pictures- _everything_ had either been destroyed or thrown around the room without a care; drawers and closet thrown open.

Someone had been looking for something.

 _No. Not something._ His mind whispered, making his blood turn to ice as his heart slammed into his chest, _Him_.

A choked gasp escaped Kurt, panic hitting him full force. He stumbled back, crashing into the wall across the hall and sliding down it as he grabbed his hair and tugged on it harshly. He couldn’t breathe; short, choppy gasps escaping him as sobs tried to break through as well. He was still being hunted, JD was going to kill him he wasn’t safe he wasn’t _safe he wasn’t safe he wasn’t—_

Kurt sobbed, clapping a hand over his mouth to try and muffle the sound. He pulled his knees to his chest, curling into a ball as tightly as he could.

\----

He didn’t know how long he stayed there, eyes red and splotchy and dried tears on his cheeks as he stared, unseeing, at the disaster zone that used to be his room.

All he could remember was the fact the sun had dropped low into the sky, bathing the sky such vibrant shades of orange and red it looked like blood, and the sound of someone coming up the steps. Kurt’s heart lurched into high gear for a moment before it crashed back down into the empty pain he was feeling now, too exhausted to feel anything more than numb.

His eyes slid over to the stairs, barely registering that the person climbing them was his dad. Kurt knew he should go to his room before he was caught sitting here with obvious signs he had been crying on his face, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care.

His father sneered as he walked over to him, stopping just in front of him. “I thought I told you to get out of my sight.” He snapped, but Kurt said nothing. His father kicked his shin, sending a short lance of pain up Kurt’s leg. “Look at me when I talk to you, boy!” Kurt’s breath hitched out of fear as he was suddenly grabbed by the shirt and pulled up from the ground, his father’s face getting scarily close to his own.

Paul’s eyes narrowed as he got a good look at Kurt’s face and a growl built up in his throat. “I knew you were a sissy.” He spat, making Kurt flinch on instinct. He turned suddenly, locking Kurt into a headlock and kneeing him in the stomach without so much as a warning. Almost as fast, Kurt found himself tossed into his room, elbows and knees smacking into hard wood floor.

“I don’t want to see you the rest of the night.” Paul growled, and Kurt felt panic dig its claws into him once more as he realized what his dad as about to do.

“No, no, no, please don’t, I’m sorry, I-“ He didn’t know why he was begging, what he’d even say had his dad actually been listening, but it didn’t matter. His dad slammed the door shut in Kurt’s face, and all apologies died on his tongue. The sound of the lock clicking shut echoed in his head. He was trapped.

He was shaking again, scared and hurt as he curled his hands into fists and rested his forehead against the cold wood. He wanted to scream, cry, _anything_ , but he forced himself to choke them all down.

He wished Ram was here. Ram always knew how to keep Kurt’s brain away from things like this. He always knew the right thing to say to get Kurt’s body to stop screaming at him.

But Ram wasn’t there. Ram was still fighting for his life because he took a bullet that had been meant for Kurt. Ram nearly bled to death all because he had taken a bullet Kurt wouldn’t have dodged. Ram had been bleeding, still alive even though there had been so much blood, and Kurt had run like a _coward_.

Tears sprung to Kurt’s eyes and he bit down on his lip hard enough to draw blood. He felt sick as he watched the small drops of blood drip onto one of the ripped notebook pages he was crouched over.

 _Blood pooled around Ram’s body, spreading out at an alarming rate. JD was screaming for Kurt, and he was taking off, shouting and running through the graveyard._ Run, run, run, he’ll kill you if you don’t run _, a voice in head whispered, and Kurt leapt onto the fence the moment he saw it, nearly slipping as he tried to climb it as fast as he could._

_A gunshot. Warmth pooling outward and dark red pouring from a hole just above his hip-_

Kurt struggled to breathe right, squeezing his eyes shut tightly. “Stop it.” He hissed, lightly hitting his head against the floor. “Stop it, stop it, _stop it_.” He gripped his waist, his wound pulsing hotly through his shirt as if mocking him.

Kurt didn’t sleep that night, or the one after that.

He wasn’t sure if he’d ever be able to sleep again.


	3. Being Fed to the Wolves

A few days before Kurt was allowed to go back to school, his doctor gave him sleeping pills.

“Take one an hour before you go to bed, okay? They should keep you under the entire night.”

Kurt nodded, staring at the medication blankly. He supposed it would happen eventually- it wasn’t like it _wasn’t_ obvious he hadn’t been getting sleep this past week, and he went to the hospital every other day to make sure the bullet wound was healing like it should.

“Kurt,” The doctor said, making Kurt look up at him from the simple orange bottle in his hands. The doctor probably had the most sympathetic gaze Kurt had been given since— since _that night_. “Listen, I really think therapy would-“

“ _No_.” Kurt hissed, shaking his head as he gripped the bottle of pills tightly. “No therapy. I can’t-- can’t let anyone--“

“No one would hate you for _getting help_ , Kurt.”

“What do you know!?” Kurt snapped, shooting to his feet and glaring at the doctor. The doctor flinched in shock, or maybe even fear. Momentarily, it felt good, having someone be so afraid of him again, but then realization hit and it made his stomach roll. He didn't _want_ to keep scaring people; he was so tired of lying to himself over and over again. Still, Kurt could feel the anger rolling under his skin, feel the need to punch something boiling and building along with a sudden flash of nervousness. He strode towards the door, slipping the bottle of pills into his pocket.

He couldn’t let his dad know about this; couldn’t afford to let him see that his son was breaking apart all because of a stupid gunshot wound. He had never crumpled before- hasn’t for years. If his dad found out, or the kids at school found out, he'd lose everything he had spent so long painstakingly building. He had to build his walls again, had to mend and rebuild them the best he could in order to hide.

He had to start lying again.

“Thanks for the pills.” He grumbled to the doctor before he opened the door, heading back to his own personal hell.

\----

Westerberg High had never felt so ominous before.

Kurt held his head high as he walked through the school halls, even as he felt like crumpling under the accusing gazes; the whispers of _“I heard he tried to commit a lover’s suicide with_ Ram Sweeney _”, “He’s such a fag”, “I heard he wasn’t able to get it up with_ Heather McNamara _!” “What? No way! So he_ is _-“_

Kurt gulped, taking a deep breath. He was still tired, that’s why he was so affected by their words. The bite in his chest each whisper took was just because he was getting used to the sleeping pills, that's all. He could get through this without his mind falling into pieces. He just had to go back to pretending like he was completely straight, and all these accusations would fade away. They always did.

He spotted some of his teammates, and he plastered a smile onto his face, running over to them like he usually did. “Hey, what’s up dudes?” He cheered, throwing that dumb jock lilt into his voice as he raised a hand for a high five, like normal.

_Act normal, act normal, act normal, act-_

“What the fuck do you want, _fag_?” Thomas Clark, one of the team’s running back’s snarled, and Kurt tried not to let the smile on his face fall. He dropped his hand.

“Come on, you can’t actually believe those rumors!” Kurt laughed, even as his heart started beating loudly in his chest and the back of his neck started to coat with a cold sweat. Why did everyone seem to know about his sexuality? What had he done, what had they _found_ , that gave it away? “Ram and I like girls!”

“The note they found was in _your_ handwriting!”

Kurt’s smile did fall this time, being replaced by confusion. “What note?” He asked, and a murmur spread through the small group of jocks, varying reactions all based with disgust appearing. Thomas laughed darkly.

“Like you don’t know! The _suicide note_ , fairy!”

“What suicide note?” Kurt asked again, frowning now. His mind was reeling, trying to figure out what they were talking about. He was always so careful to play the role he had given himself; he never wrote _anything_ that would give away that he liked guys just as much as he liked girls, and he had never, _ever_ thought about giving up and ending it all. Not with Ram there by his side, helping him in his own little ways that Ram probably didn't even realize he was doing. Ways that he might never-

 “I never _wrote_ anything! JD fucking _shot_ us!” He snapped, shoving the spiral of thoughts his mind was going down as far out of the way as he could and unaware he had raised his voice until the entire hall of students had fallen silent.

“Don’t lie, fag. Your handwriting speaks for itself.” Thomas spat, eyes cold as ice as he shoved past Kurt. “But if that trench coat wearing freak _did_ shoot you, he should have finished the job.”

Kurt felt like a bag of ice had been dropped into his shirt, the words hurting and rubbing salt into the wounds Kurt had been trying to stitch together and heal for so long. “I’m _not_ a fag!” Kurt retaliated as strongly as he could, body tensing for a fight. He needed to show them he was top dog again. He needed to prove he wasn’t a fairy. He had to fight.

Before he so much as had a chance to move, Thomas grinned, all teeth and glinting eyes as he said, “Hold his arms.”

Kurt’s eyes widened as someone grabbed his arms and pinned them behind his back, using the same tactic Kurt had grown up all his life facing- and using. He struggled; kicking against the holder’s legs as Thomas stepped forward, cracking his knuckles. “Time you learned your _true_ place here, faggot.” He said darkly, and the next thing Kurt knew he was being punched in the abdomen, right on the healing wound.

Kurt gasped, pain shooting up his body and pooling where the punch had landed and mind turning to static as the smell of damp grass _, blood, gunpowder- run run run run run-!_

His wound throbbed, even as Thomas got a few more hits in before he had the other football players decided they’d done enough. The person holding him let go and Kurt dropped to the ground, holding his arms around the wounded area like he had become so prone to doing the past week and curling in on himself as he let out a hiss of pain, digging his own fingers into the wound as he tried to get his mind to stop circling like a broken record for more than a second.

“Guess who’s top dog now, Kelly?” Thomas taunted, using his foot to tilt Kurt’s chin up and make him look at him. A strong, _rancid_ scent assaulted Kurt's nose, snapping his mind out of his daze. He scrunched his nose slightly in disgust- did Thomas ever wash his socks? “And you’re getting thrown to the wolves.”

Kurt growled in warning, “You’re dead meat, Thomas.” He snarled, but Thomas only laughed, moving his foot from under Kurt’s chin long enough to kick him in the chest. Kurt was thrown back into the lockers, and he grunted in pain.

“By the way, you can forget coming to practice. You and your _boy toy_ are removed from the team.” Thomas sneered, and with a laugh, he and the other football players left. Kurt’s stomach dropped, nausea creating a lump in his throat.

“Ram’s not gay! He had nothing to do with any of this!” Kurt shouted at them, thankful his voice didn’t crack. “You can take me off the team but don’t do it to Ram!”

No response, although he had already expected they’d forget he existed. Kurt took deep breaths as he curled in on himself, face burning with shame. He could practically hear the school mocking him as he sat there, trying to let the pain in his chest fade enough he could stand and leave.

“Kurt?”

“Get the _fuck_ away from me.” Kurt hissed, not wanting to deal with anyone coming near him when he was still sore and so, so close to snapping already.

The person who said his name just stood there, though, shifting their weight nervously. It made Kurt go on edge, too. “What’s your damage?!” He snapped, “I told you to get-“

He froze as his eyes locked with Martha Dunnstock’s, stunned to see her willingly talking to him. At least she didn’t look scared of him. Or angry. Or disgusted.

They stared at each other for a few moments, Martha quickly growing uncomfortable if her darting eyes were any indication. “I just, um, I- I heard about what happened and saw you come back by yourself and, uh…. Well…” Martha took a deep breath before quickly asking, “Are you and Ram okay?”

Kurt continued to stare, dumbstruck. Why was Martha Dunnstock- one of the few girls Ram and he bullied- asking if they were alright?

Then it hit him. Of course. She just wanted to know how her _crush_ was doing. She didn’t actually care about _Kurt_ , she was just being polite.

Kurt’s chest ached, and he pretended it was from Thomas’ kick.

He stood up, not looking at Martha as he spoke next. “Ram’s still in the hospital. They aren’t sure if he’ll be able to pull through.” He said quietly, so only Martha could hear, and he tried to ignore her sharp intake of breath.

“I need to go to class.” He mumbled again, shoving his way past Martha. He made sure to do it lightly, though. It wasn’t fair to torment her after dropping Ram’s condition on her. Kurt may not like how she had a crush on Ram, but he wasn’t heartless.

\----

Kurt looked around the lunch room with a frown. Was he welcomed anywhere in the school’s social hierarchy, anymore? Would JD or Veronica be waiting to jump him?

The second thought had him choking back another small bout of panic, eyes looking for any sign of the girl dressed in dark blue or the boy in a trench coat.

Someone tapped on his shoulder and Kurt bit back a scream, although jumping about a foot in the air and slamming his back even further against the wall he was leaning against certainly wasn’t much better. Heather Chandler stood beside him, hands up in a placating manner with a notebook held tightly in her right.

Slowly, Kurt exhaled, placing a hand on his chest and feeling his heart race. “What do you want?” He asked bitterly. Heather frowned at the accusation in his voice before lowering her hands and opening her notebook with a flourish.

_“Hi Heather! Gee, it sure is nice to see you again after you went and visited me and Ram in the hospital!”_

Kurt frowned, confused. “What are you-“ He paused, looking between Heather’s deadpan expression and the notebook she held up next to her face. He scowled at her. “Shut up, I’m having a bad week, okay?” She didn’t move, and that was when Kurt registered the meaning behind her words. “Wait, you mean those flowers and card were from you?”

Heather nodded once, finally turning her notebook back to herself and starting to write again. Kurt stared.

“I thought you hated Ram and me.”

She rolled her eyes, and Kurt suddenly felt a lot stupider. He lowered his head sadly, embarrassed and once again feeling shame burn his insides. He just couldn’t win today, could he?

Kurt flinched as his head was sharply whacked with a pen, looking up at Heather.

“OW! What the hell was that for?” He asked, rubbing the back of his head. Heather was frowning, holding her notebook up. Kurt’s eyes widened at the sheer about of words that hadn’t been there before. He didn’t know Heather could write that fast.

She pointed to the bottom-most passage, _“Hey, you okay?”_

“I’m fine.” He lied, not taking his eyes away from the paper as she moved her pen to the first new message.

_“You two were lucky. JD would have killed both of you if he’d had a better aim and Veronica hadn’t body-slammed him to the ground when he was shooting at you.”_

Kurt stared at the short paragraph, a tired, maniacal laugh wanting to bubble up in his throat. Lucky? _Lucky_? Everything Kurt had been hiding had been exposed because _apparently_ someone forged a stupid suicide note that more than half the student body and his father believed. The painful disguise of being an asshole jock who shouldn’t be messed with, that had taken _years_ of school to build, had been crushed in one night. One _hour_ , even.

He had no idea where his attempted-murderer was or whether or not Veronica was still on his side. His best friend and the only thing that kept him from possible insanity was still tiptoeing the line of death. It was his fault he was there in the first place. It was _his_ fault they had gone to the graveyard that night.

 _Everything_ about this was his fault.

He wasn’t _lucky_. He was the entire definition of _unlucky_.

“What do you _want_ , Chandler?” Kurt asked instead, throwing even more of his annoyance into his voice. Heather looked at him sympathetically, moving her pen to the middle paragraph.

_“As I was sitting there in the hospital, waiting for you to wake up, I realized that you and Ram would have nowhere to go once you came back. Turns out, I was right. You might be able to get Ram back on the team but you, at the very least, have lost all status to your name.”_

Kurt frowned, crossing his arms over his chest defensively and mumbling a small, “Shut up,” even though she hadn’t actually spoken and he knew she was right. He looked at the page again, continuing to read Heather’s little speech.

 _“Which is why, I want you to come join us at our table. Veronica wishes to apologize and I know what it’s like to be a victim of JD’s actions. We may be the top of the food chain but we care about those we bring under our protection._ ”

Heather looked him up and down then, as if studying him and looking for something specific. Apparently she must have found it because a second later she pulled her notebook back and jotted something down quickly.

_“Even you.”_

Kurt felt his breath catch again, and he laughed depreciatively before he could stop himself. “That doesn’t—why would you care about _me_? I’ve just been an asshole to everyone in this school for the past decade.”

 _“I know that’s just a_ _disguise you use, Kurt._ _For one thing, I've known you since 5th grade. For another,_ _I’ve_ _seen you drunk and deep down you are just a big cuddly puppy.”_ She paused, writing in the notebook again. _“Besides, all of us at the top have something to hide. None of us want to get hurt.”_

Kurt’s face flushed and he looked down again, kicking at the ground. “How… how can you trust Veronica?” He asked, looking up again. His voice broke slightly as he left fear finally slip into his words. “She was _there_ Heather. She—She was going to kill Ram and I too. She might not have thought the bullets were real _but she still shot the gun_.”

Heather looked at him sadly, reaching out and giving Kurt a warm hug. It had Kurt frozen in her hold, the sudden gentleness and warmth foreign to him. He shuddered, exhaling slowly and pressure started to build behind his eyes. He told himself he wasn’t trembling.

Don’t cry. Don’t cry. _Don’t cry._

He pulled back out of her hold, looking away for a few minutes and scrubbing his face with his hands. “Is JD still at school?”

Heather started writing again, stopping and erasing things a few times. She worried at her bottom lip, and Kurt felt his stomach roll.

_“JD…. JD disappeared.”_


	4. Screams At The Back Of His Throat

_JD disappeared._

Those two words turned all of Kurt’s blood to ice. He felt like his heart had stopped in his chest, making his vision swim just before it started up again at five times the speed it was supposed to. “What do you mean, ‘disappeared’?” He asked, his voice no louder than a whisper. Heather didn’t look happy as she warily turned her notebook back around, slowly starting to write in it again.

Kurt felt trapped as he stood there in the hall, feeling eyes on the back of his head and sending chills up his spine. He subtly turned his back to the wall, trying to mask it with an accusatory glare towards one of the football members that passed. He could feel his hands shaking. He felt suffocated.

_JD was still out there, he was hunting him, he could be killing Ram at this very moment he’s coming for him he’s not safe he’s not safe he’s not SA-_

This time, Kurt was ashamed to say he _did_ scream as Heather smacked him with the pen, his heart flying up to his throat and legs nearly giving out on him from the sudden switch to _FREEZE!_ and back his brain had ever done.

At least Heather had the decency to look guilty as she showed him her notebook.

“ _JD ran off after Veronica struggled with him to get the gun and the police sirens came. He ran away and no one has seen him since.”_

Kurt felt like the world was swept out from under him.

“But—But that means—“ He gulped as his vision swam, pressing further back against the wall. His legs did give out this time, and he could feel Heather’s long nails digging into his arm slightly as she scrambled to catch him.

It didn’t work, though, and he collapsed to the floor. Heather’s notebook and pen fell to the ground as she grabbed for his arm, the clatter of them landing exploding in his head as cold air washed over his body and a gun flashed in his mind. He gasped, curling into a ball and wrapping an arm around his abdomen as his wound _burned_.

_JD could kill them he was still out there Ram’s in trouble they’re going to die—_

_“_ Kurt?.... _Kurt!_ ” _JD’s voice is right there, ghosting over the back of his neck—_

_Don’t look back don’t stop running he’s coming to get you run run RUN—_

“-rt? ….Kurt? …..Kurt, you need to snap out of it!”

Kurt gasped, a scream lodging itself in his throat as the static in his head turned into a wall of loud chatter crashing down on him. He zeroed in on the girls kneeling in front of him, face starting to flush a deep crimson from shame. He swallowed around a lump in his throat, his mouth feeling like it was stuffed with cotton as he tried to make it work again. “….Mc…. McNamara?”

The yellow Heather sighed in relief, placing a hand on her chest as she and Chandler visibly relaxed. “There you are.”

It was then that Kurt noticed the tables of people staring at them. He glared, knowing it was weak, but it did its job and had the kids looking away, resuming conversation amongst themselves.

“Hey, are you feeling okay?” McNamara asked, dragging his attention back to her. “Do you need to get some fresh air?”

Kurt winced, quickly shaking his head. “I’m fine.” He answered, clipped. He didn’t want to worry her, or go outside. If he went outside, JD could jump him. He would be out in the open, defenseless.

McNamara didn’t look too convinced that he was alright, but she nodded anyway and offered him her hand. “Come on,” She said softly, giving him a kind smile. “Let’s get you up and over to our table. The school cafeteria floor is disgusting.”

Kurt had barely reacted before both Heathers were grabbing his arms and hauling him to his feet.

Kurt stumbled, his legs feeling like jelly, and he had forgotten just how strong McNamara was. She caught him easily before he could stumble too far forward, spinning around and pressing against his side to help keep him upright. “Whoa there, big boy.” She said with a small chuckle, although her eyes didn’t quite twinkle like they usually did when she joked. Kurt looked away, ashamed, and he carefully stood up straight, sighing softly.

For such a small girl, Heather McNamara was strong. Maybe that was why it wasn’t as easy to fall apart in her arms. She was gentle and would break Kurt’s walls into pieces easily when they had private talks, but physical touches with her didn’t break him like Chandler’s had. Maybe that was why she was the one he thought would be the best to date, when he was trying so hard to convince everyone he was straight.

“I’m fine. I can walk.” _No need to make this any more humiliating_ , He thought, and Heather McNamara nodded.

The trio walked through the cafeteria towards one of the back corners of the room, a shocking change since the last time Kurt had seen them. They used to be right in the center of it all. He walked as steadily as he could, giving a tired glare to anyone who he felt looking. Both Heathers stuck close, giving their own glares to anyone who looked at Kurt wrong. As his mind calmed down from the panic, Kurt felt his stomach churn with anger at himself.

He couldn’t believe he just had a _panic attack_ in front of the entire cafeteria, and now he had the Heathers looking after him like a _coward_.

He held in a heavy sigh, scrubbing his face with his hands tiredly. Today officially _sucked_ and Kurt just wanted to go home to sleep.

Heather McNamara stepped a little closer, and Kurt nearly jumped as her hand brushed against his. He looked down and found her giving him a comforting smile. Chandler’s hand brushed against his other hand a second later, and when he looked at her, she was sporting a mirroring smile to McNamara.

The coil around his chest lessened a little, and Kurt managed to give the girls a small smile in return.

The walk to the Heathers table would have felt far more like a death sentence, Kurt decided, had McNamara and Chandler not been sticking so close to him.


	5. One Sentence, Permanent Change

When Kurt caught sight of both Martha and Veronica at the Heathers’ table, he nearly froze up again.

He did, however, stop walking and lightly grab McNamara and Chandler’s wrists. “Wait. I-I can’t go over there.”

Thankfully, they paused, looking at him with similar curious expressions. Kurt looked down.

“I told Martha about Ram… I-I can’t see her be broken up about it.” He said softly, and Chandler turned to fully face him, taking his head in her hands and looking him in the eyes. At one point in the recent past, Kurt would have been entranced, leaning in to kiss Chandler both because he played the part of a sex-craved idiot, and because she really was beautiful. He would have loved to have done it with her at least once before today, even if he knew he was _way_ out of her league.

Now, he felt no lust towards her- he wasn’t sure he would feel lust towards _anyone_ any time soon. His heart still skipped a beat, sure, but he was almost certain that was simply because of how close they were and in public.

 _“You’ll be fine.”_ Chandler mouthed slowly, and Kurt couldn’t really say he believed her but he nodded anyway.

McNamara smiled as brightly and innocently as ever, pulling him to sit between her and Chandler as they finished the walk to the table. Kurt waved hello to Heather Duke, who sniffed haughtily and turned away, before hesitantly looking at Veronica and Martha.

Martha looked a little like she had been crying earlier, which made Kurt feel even worse, but then she smiled at him. “So, you never actually finished answering my question earlier.” She said softly, and Kurt frowned in confusion.

“I told you about Ram… wasn’t that all you really needed to know?”

Quickly, Martha shook her head. “No!” She gasped, affronted, “I genuinely wanted to know if you are okay!” She paused for a moment, thinking over her words carefully. “You… seem really different now. N-Not that it’s bad! It just seems, uh, nevermind.” Martha quickly trailed off, looking down nervously as Kurt stared at her in confusion. She really wanted to know how he, Kurt Kelly, her biggest bully for the past eight years, was feeling?

He felt guilt eat away at him like acid.

Heather Chandler elbowed him in the arm- which hurt, but he was thankful she avoided his side- and he remembered it would be polite to respond. “Oh… I- I’m… fine, Martha. I, uh….” He sighed, looking up at the ceiling as he tried to find the best way to breach this without scaring the entire group. “I’d… like to apologize for my actions in the past.” He said after a moment. “I’ve been an ass.”

“Kurt Kelly admitting he’s a loser?” Heather Duke gasped, “What the hell happened?”

“Shut up, Heather.” McNamara hissed at her friend, and Kurt laughed weakly, tapping his hands against the table nervously. He knew it was uncharacteristic of him to apologize, much less be _nervous_ about it, but he wasn’t sure he could actually continue acting like an ass around the Heathers and Martha. They were the only ones how had been nice to him so far, and McNamara and Martha really _were_ kind.

“Apology accepted, Kurt.” Martha said with a small, embarrassed smile. “Just so long as you stop being a bully.”

Kurt laughed weakly again, looking down at his hands. “I… I can’t really agree to that right now… I need to get Ram back on the football team.”

“You can do that without bullying the other guys into it, Kurt.” McNamara scolded softly, “I’ll help- it doesn’t seem they’ll be listening to you anytime soon…” Kurt winced, glancing at the table full of his old teammates. He couldn’t say she was wrong- it would go better if she did it, but… he felt like it wouldn’t work. He felt like they’d just say that to her and then go straight back to kicking Ram off the team.

He shrugged, not meeting her gaze. “If I can get them to put Ram back on the team and stop the rumors about him before he gets back, then maybe he can keep having a normal life.”

“Don’t you want to get back on, too?” Martha asked softly, and Kurt wanted to say that he did, so, so badly. Football was an outlet for him to get out of his head for a bit. Without that, he wasn’t sure what he was going to do.

“….They’ll never let me back on. Not now that they’ve seen a note that’s apparently in my handwriting.” He admitted slowly, the words bitter and burning on his tongue _._ “I’m never going to be allowed back on that field.”

Heather McNamara bumped her shoulder with Kurt’s smiling reassuringly at him. “We’ll figure something out, don’t you worry. Besides, the next game, they’ll realize just _why_ you and Ram were our star players and they’ll come crawling back!”

Kurt chuckled, smiling slightly at the girls. His chest felt a little lighter now, although guilt at how he had been acting until now was still clamping down on his stomach and making him feel sick to his stomach. “Thank you.” He said honestly, and McNamara gave him a short side hug.

For a while, the girls just began to chat about random things while they all ate, Kurt listening to their stories quietly as he picked at his own food. Veronica was being unnaturally quiet as well, although she spoke when Martha or one of the Heather’s addressed her. He still couldn’t look at Veronica, and he was afraid to address her even though he had so many questions on the tip of his tongue.

Heather Chandler rolled her eyes, balling up a small corner of paper and throwing it at Veronica. The girl in blue let out an affronted whine, and Kurt guessed Chandler was motioning with her eyes that she had to start the conversation.

Kurt could feel nervousness building up in his body, giving him a little more relief than if it was one of the many panic attacks he had been having the past week, but he still hated it. “V-Veronica, I-“

“Kurt, I’m-“

Kurt slowly looked up at the sound of Veronica’s voice overlapping with his, and he gulped nervously. Veronica looked down sadly, rubbing the back of her neck.

“..Kurt, I’m- I’m so _sorry_.” Veronica said after a long moment, voice choked up as she looked him in the eyes. “I had no idea those were real bullets. I-I was just so upset that you guys spread that rumor about me, and JD said that we should scare you a bit, make you the butt of a joke for once, and I let emotions get in the way… I should never have-“ She choked on her next words, looking utterly heartbroken and sorry as she apologized.

Kurt gulped, anger and so many more emotions swirling in his chest. He was scared, mostly, and angry, but she seemed like she was genuinely sorry. He wasn’t sure if he could ever forgive her for tricking him and Ram, but… if she hadn’t been there to stop JD… he and Ram would be dead.

Instead of giving her a straight answer, he figured the best he could give her right now was an honest apology of his own. He looked down at his lap, thinking over for a moment if it would be better if he looked her in the eyes or not. “I’m sorry, too…” He said softly, looking at Veronica. He tried to meet her eyes but his heart stuttered and he had to look just past her and at her hair, instead. “Ram and I… we were drunk and made you-“ He looked at McNamara and Duke here, as well, “All of you, uncomfortable.” He looked at Veronica again. “We never should have started that rumor…. I guess… It was the next day and, we—we thought we _had_ uh, done it with you…” Kurt could feel his ears and cheeks burning as he cleared his throat, looking away again, “It was a mistake. Anyway, I, uh, I really am sorry.”

The table fell silent, apparently shocked by Kurt’s behavior, and he fought the urge to shrink in on himself. “What? I’m not actually that much of an ass…” He mumbled, and Chandler patted his arm lightly in understanding.

In the silence, Kurt’s attention turned from the table to the conversations around them, catching more whispers about him and the alleged suicide note. He winced, glad to no longer hear Ram’s name mixing in with them but still upset by them in general. He hoped they’d stop if—

No, _before_ Ram came back.

He had to believe Ram could make it through this.

Kurt wrapped an arm around his waist, grabbing just above his hip as his thoughts started spiraling back to Ram. “Kurt?” McNamara asked, snapping Kurt out of his thoughts. McNamara placed a hand lightly on his arm, and Kurt belatedly realized that he had started trembling again. Kurt looked at her apologetically.

“Sorry, were you saying something?” He asked softly, rubbing the back of his neck. McNamara frowned slightly, voice quiet as she addressed him.

“I asked if you were okay. You zoned out and started shaking again.”

“I’m okay.” Kurt said softly, even though he felt like he was far from it. He looked to Veronica after McNamara removed her hand from his arm, gulping slightly as he did. “Veronica… I-I’ve been hearing all this stuff about a suicide note in my handwriting? What… What are they talking about?”

Veronica frowned, looked guilty, and slowly pulled a piece of paper from her pocket. “It isn’t the original…” She said softly, handing it to him, “That was given to either Ram’s father, or yours… but Ms. Fleming apparently thought she should do what she did with Heather’s forged note and, well…”

Kurt read the note, feeling the blood drain from his face the longer he read it. It really did look like his handwriting.

_Ram and I died because we had to hide our gay forbidden love from a misapproving world…_

He shuddered, breath catching in his throat. That was it? That one simple sentence was what destroyed all his hard work? Destroyed his best friend’s reputation?

Ignoring how badly his hands shook, Kurt took a deep breath and tore the forged note into pieces, eyes blurring as emotions started welling to the surface and his breathing grew more and more ragged against his will.

Damn it, damn it, _damn it!_

A hand placed itself over his, snapping him out of the spiral he had been falling prey to, and he finally noticed that all that remained of the note’s copy in his hands were a few small pieces no bigger than the tip of his finger. He gulped, letting the scraps fall from his hands. Chandler took his hand in her own, giving it a squeeze as he looked up at the group. All of them were watching him warily, like he might break any second, and he _hated_ it.

“I need to go.” He murmured, not waiting for a response as he stood up and turned to walk away.

Chandler frowned, giving his arm a harsh tug as McNamara gasped and stood up herself. “No! No, please stay, Kurt!” She begged, wrapping her arms lightly around his arm and pressing close. “It’s okay!”

“No, it’s _not_ okay!” Kurt snapped, but he didn’t fight the girls as they made him sit down again. He held his face in his hands, taking another deep breath as he rested his elbows on the table. “It’s not okay.” He whispered, exhaustion thrumming through his body.

What was he going to do?

“I’m so sorry, Kurt.” Veronica began after a moment, sounding like she was on the verge of tears herself. “I-It had been in my pocket, and I guess when I was struggling with JD to let go of the gun it fell out… The police must have found it, and-“

“Why didn’t you tell them it was forgery?!” Kurt snapped, anger boiling over as he slammed his hands down on the table and he stood up again. His chair clattered to the floor from the force. Martha and McNamara shrank back, but Kurt felt like all he could see was red. “You were there! You were there when they _fucking found us_ , and you just let them believe that Ram and I tried to commit suicide while _one of you had the fucking gun?!_ ”

He was shouting at the top of his lungs, the entire cafeteria staring at him while Veronica stared like a deer in headlights. “Why the _fuck_ didn’t you tell them anything?!”

“I-I did!” Veronica said quietly, leaning back in her seat while Kurt leaned closer, balling a hand into a fist. “I told them JD shot you before running away, b-but they-“

“What?” Kurt asked, finally lowering his voice as the anger dulled, draining out of him from just how _tired_ he was. “They didn’t believe you? They _applauded_ you?” Slowly, Veronica gave him a small nod, and Kurt’s anger turned ice cold, flooding and freezing his veins as another wave of exhaustion hit him. Laughter bubbled from his throat, spilling from his lips with no control of his own until it was turning into a sob. He couldn’t believe this.

He fucking _hated_ this town.

Chandler was grabbing him again, tugging him lightly in an attempt to make him sit down again, to breathe, calm down, _anything_ except stand there breaking down until he collapsed, but he couldn’t move.

He was so _tired._

“I’m going home.” He mumbled, tearing himself away from the Heathers trying to keep him there and leaving the cafeteria with his head held as high as he could manage. He glared at anyone who stared too long. Even if McNamara didn’t like his course of action, he’d try to salvage something. Something Ram could rebuild his life on when he came back.

Even if Kurt’s reputation was irreparably damaged, even if his threats no longer affected those who used to be beneath him, even if he was no longer the alpha dog at the school, he still had the ability to cause fear. He’d bring the act up long enough to let people know he was still the jock that beat them just for looking at him wrong. He’d hide behind the act long enough to get Ram back in his place of the school hierarchy.

Kurt was tired of pretending, but he’d do anything for Ram.

Even if it meant they’d never be able to see each other again once everything was over.

\----

Kurt, while thankful that his father was at work, _hated_ how quiet and empty his house was during the day.

Every creak and groan of the floor, each breeze that whistled through the thin walls, made Kurt’s hair stand on end and skin cover in goosebumps. He couldn’t shake away the feeling he was being watched, stuck out in the open for JD- or even someone else- to finish off the job he had started, like a deer being hunted by a pack of coyotes.

He gulped, chills running up his spine as he ascended the steps two at a time to try and get out of the open expanse of the first level of his house. Kurt shuddered as he walked to his room, creeping towards it warily. He still hadn’t cleaned up the destroyed remains of his room, only moving the mattress back to its place and placing a couple of blankets on it.

He was terrified to come back to it being destroyed again. It was safer, far, far safer to just leave it looking like a tornado disaster. He dropped his bag by the door, which he closed behind him, and walking numbly over to his bed, falling onto it face first. His entire torso protested, still sore from Thomas’ attack that morning, but he welcomed the ache. The apprehension and dull throb of pain took an edge of the numbness he had been feeling for the better part of the day.

His father was going to be mad when he found out Kurt skipped half of his classes on his first day back-- even more furious to find out he was kicked off the football team.

Kurt gulped at the thought of the team, curling up tightly into a ball and pulling his letterman jacket tight around him. What was he going to do now?

He had shouted that he didn’t mind being taken off the team, but the truth was he was terrified. Football and Ram were Kurt’s anchors. Football gave Kurt a healthy outlet to everything he was feeling. He could pretend the opponent was his anger, was all the bad thoughts Ram couldn’t help him chase away. He could get lost in the pain of slamming into a tackling dummy or another human being.

Now he was left without either, stuck drowning in his own head.

 _Why did Veronica want to have sex in the middle of a_ graveyard _? Why wasn’t she stripping too? Why was she smiling like that? Why did Ram have to take the bullet? Why, why, why—_

Kurt inhaled shakily, blinking tears away as he looked at his ceiling.

“Stop being such a sissy.” He murmured darkly, “Men don’t cry. Fairies cry. I’m not—not a fairy.”

_Who are you kidding? You know what you are._

Kurt’s breath hitched, too exhausted to disagree even as his heart clenched painfully in his chest.

He was going to lose everything, wasn’t he?


	6. Heather's Got The Right Idea

“Paul— Paul let’s think about this for a minute!”

Kurt bolted upright, staring at his bedroom door with wide eyes. Already his fight or flight instinct was kicking in, adrenaline shooting through his veins and breathing picking up. Footsteps were storming up the staircase, Bill Sweeney’s voice chasing after them.

His dad was coming to kill him.

Kurt leapt to his feet, looking around for a place to hide. He couldn’t let his dad find him, he had to run, he had to hide, he was going to end up like Ram if he didn’t _run—_

Too late; his father slammed open the door, nostrils flaring as he stalked towards Kurt. Kurt scrambled back, gasping and trying to breathe as he was pinned back against the wall.

“Why’d you skip your classes?” Paul asked darkly, leaning in close but still towering over Kurt, trapping him there.

“I-I—“ Kurt stuttered, words and excuses failing to come, fear pumping through his veins and making his brain run on overtime.

“Don’t lie to me, boy.” Paul snarled, punching the wall next to Kurt’s head. To Kurt’s dismay he jumped, pressing further back into the wall like it could swallow him whole.

He was dead, he was dead, _he was dead his dad was going to kill him_ —

“Paul! That’s enough!” Kurt wasn’t sure he had ever been glad to see Ram’s father until that moment, his friend’s father storming into the room. “It was Kurt’s first day back and you know just what happened there as well as I do!”

“My son isn’t a fucking pussy!” Paul spat, whirling on Bill. “If I have to beat this into him then so be it.”

Kurt gulped, hating how fear and panic gripped his chest and constricted around him tightly, pinning him there against the wall when he would usually be at least trying to put up a fight right now.

Bill hardly looked phased by Paul’s outburst, if just a little frazzled by the ferocity, and he grabbed Paul’s arm. “Paul,” He began, oddly calm. “Just calm down, now; let’s head downstairs, go fishing at the nearby lake… let’s get your head clear before this gets brought up again, okay?”

Bill was pulling Paul out of Kurt’s room before he even got an answer, sparing a glance over his shoulder at Kurt as the only acknowledgement he was even there. Kurt stayed frozen against the wall, flinching at every crash or particularly loud shout that came from downstairs.

He slid down the wall, pulling his knees to his chest as he covered his ears with his hands. Kurt’s breath caught in his throat when there was a particularly loud thud, JD aiming a killing shot flashing to the forefront of his mind. 

“Stop it…” Kurt growled, screwing his eyes shut and gripping his hair tightly. “Stop it, it’s not JD. It’s not a gun. Stop being such a pussy!” He hissed, trying to block out all the sounds coming from outside his room. Everything was too loud, too much, and he could feel the weak grip he had on staying calm disappearing with each second. 

He couldn’t keep acting like this. He had to prove he was still big, bad, and scary. He had to pull himself together.

He had to, he had to, _he had to—_  

Kurt nearly screamed when something clanged against his window.

He scrambled further away, staring with wide eyes at the window and flinching as another pebble hit the glass. It was quiet for a few minutes; Kurt continuing to stare. 

Another pebble.

Slowly, Kurt moved to his hands and knees, navigating through his room to his window. Another pebble; he risked peeking out the corner of the window for a split second. 

His heart rate spiked, apprehension shooting up his spine in the short time he looked down and out the window before he quickly pressed his back to the wall once again. He panted, taking deep, harsh breaths. He dug his fingers into the floor, inadvertently grabbing some of the papers still scattered on the floor. The loud crinkle of paper caused Kurt to shudder. 

He let out another puff of air, letting his head fall back and hit the wall.

Heather Chandler was standing outside his window.

He turned back to the window as Heather threw another pebble at his window, opening it a moment later. “What do you want?” He asked, loud enough for her to hear. Heather glared up at him, a hand on her hip as she snapped her fingers three times before stomping her foot and pointing to the ground.

“What if I don’t want to?” He hissed, and Heather stomped her foot again, pointing to the ground a bit harsher, as if to make a point.

Kurt growled, snapping a quick “Fine!” before closing his window and quietly heading downstairs. It had gone quiet at some point, and as Kurt peeked around the stairs as he went down, he found that Bill and Paul were both nowhere to be found. Chills ran up his spine, and Kurt hoped they had gone to Ram’s to continue the fighting instead of actually going to the lake.

He left his house, going around back to where Heather had been. “So what do you want?” He asked, and Heather motioned for him to follow. “No, I’m not going anywhere. My dad’s already mad enough.”

She rolled her eyes, but didn’t walk away, instead pulling out her notebook.

 _“You shouldn’t be alone right now. Let’s watch movies or something.”_  

Kurt read what Heather wrote, and then read it again.

“What do you know?” He hissed, shoulders tensing as he quickly grew defensive. “I’m fine!”

Heather raised a perfectly manicured eyebrow, not believing his words for even a second, and Kurt growled in frustration. “Don’t look at me like that!”

Heather crossed her arms over her chest, still looking at Kurt with an unwavering gaze. Kurt looked away quickly, uncomfortable but still refusing to agree. Was he really that see through?

“Go away, Chandler.” He mumbled defensively, “I’m _fine_ , okay? So leave already.”

Heather stepped closer to him, and Kurt stepped back, looking at her again. “ _Heather,”_ He warned, honestly not wanting her to get any closer or keep pushing him, and something in his voice made Heather pause, staring at him. “Just leave me alone. Please.”

For a few minutes, they just stood there, staring at each other. For a few minutes, Kurt was regretting even walking out of his house and coming over to Heather. Every small sound was making Kurt’s skin crawl, anything louder making Kurt flinch. He was focusing hard on looking only at Heather, but he could feel a cold sweat starting to break out and he knew he needed to go.

Just as Kurt started to turn and head back around to the front of his house, Heather darted forward and grabbed his wrist.

“Heather!” He shouted, nearly jumping out of his skin as he turned to face the blonde. “What the hell, man?!”

She stared at him, determination in her eyes. Kurt was frozen, stunned by the sight but feeling incredibly vulnerable and laid bare as she continued to stare, searching for something.

When she found whatever she wanted to see, she nodded once and started pulling him back around to the front of his house, walking in like she owned the place before shoving Kurt onto the couch in the living room.

Kurt started to stand, shouts and disagreements on the tip of his tongue. What did Heather think she was doing?!

Before so much as a sound could slip from Kurt’s lips, though, Heather was shoving him back onto the couch, pointing a stern finger at him as if to say “Stay there.” 

Kurt growled, but knew that whatever Heather had set her mind to, he wouldn’t be able to change. So instead, he just crossed his arms over his chest, brought his legs up onto the couch, and hoped he didn’t look as much like a sulking child as he felt.

Heather let out a far too pleased “Hmph” and turned away from him, patting his head as she passed, and Kurt could just hear the “ _Good boy!”_ She would have said had she still been able to talk. 

Heather disappeared from his sight, which made Kurt’s anxiety spike. He could hear her going around his house, looking for whatever it was she was after, but Kurt felt exposed; vulnerable as he sat there on his couch. Heather’s footfalls were quiet, but it didn’t stop the creaks and groans of the floors and steps. Didn’t stop Kurt’s mind from twisting the knowledge that it was Heather into it being JD, killing them off one by one and he wouldn’t even know because Chandler couldn’t even scream. 

He curled up even tighter on the couch, his side throbbing dully. He grabbed at the healing wound, digging his nails into the sensitive skin around it to try and distract himself from the thoughts spinning around in his head. The pain did little to numb his fear, and he couldn’t stop himself from jumping at each little sound, his mind reeling.

He startled and spluttered as a truckload of blankets were suddenly thrown over him, hands shooting up to find an opening and get his head back out from beneath the darkness. His heart lodged in his throat, panic welling in his chest when it was taking him too long to find the edges of the blankets and he could swear there was a target being aimed at on his back. 

Cold air brushed his hand and he twisted his wrist slightly, snagging the edge with his fingers and throwing the blankets off his head. He whirled around when he heard a weak giggle behind him, glaring at Heather. “You fucking suck, Heather.” He snarled weakly, and Heather grinned, reaching over and fixing some of his hair. Kurt glared, batting her hands away quickly. 

Heather hummed, flipping a lock of wavy blonde hair over her shoulder before heading for his kitchen. Kurt sighed, deflating as she went around the corner. He closed his eyes, listening as she threw open cupboards and drawers looking for food as he calmed his heart down. He wasn’t sure she’d find anything up to par with her tastes; they were still on opposite sides of the financial food chain, even if they used to be on similar ground in school, and his dad has kept the liquor cabinet locked since Kurt and Ram were shot. 

Kurt’s eyes flew open as his thoughts started turning back to Ram, and he quickly got up.

Nope, he wasn’t going to start thinking about that again.

He separated the tangled blankets Heather had brought down, wondering if she had noticed the disaster zone that was his room in her hunt for them. He really hoped not— the last thing he wanted was for her to question him about it.

When that was done, he went to work covering the couch with them, making sure the majority of them were on Heather’s side so she could stay warm. 

Heather came back out of the kitchen with her arms filled with sodas and the majority of the junk food in Kurt’s house, a pleased grin on her face that slipped into a slightly confused expression as she took in what Kurt was doing. Kurt felt his face flush, and he looked away, clearing his throat.

“What’s that look for?” He grumbled, placing the last of the blankets in its place before walking over to Heather and taking some of the load from her arms. He placed it on the coffee table, not meeting her eyes. 

Heather set down her stuff as well, grabbing her notebook again. “ _Nothing, just surprised you got the blankets all nice and neat. I thought that you would just leave them a tangled mess for us to struggle with, considering your usual attitude.”_

Kurt’s blush only deepened, his stomach churning a little uncomfortably as he read what Heather said. “I may have been an ass but I’m not that lazy or shitty.” He mumbled, looking away quickly and striding to the VHS tapes. “So we’re watching movies, right? That’s what you’re setting up here?”

A quick glance over his shoulder at Heather confirmed that’s what she was doing, and Kurt turned back to the movies. His stomach twisted as he looked over the movies; why did his dad enjoy so many movies that involved blood and shooting?

His eyes slipped further down their collection; towards the dust-covered sections that hadn’t been touched since his mom had died. He took a shuddering breath as he looked over the movies before throwing a glance over his shoulder. “Uh, are— are you cool with romances and musicals and the like?” He asked nervously, feeling completely stupid for asking, but those were the only movies that Kurt’s family owned that didn’t involve guns, blood, or suspense. Heather motioned for him to choose a movie already, so Kurt grabbed a random one.

His nose wrinkled as dust immediately covered his shaking hands as he pulled out the tape and put it in the player. He pulled out a couple more movies, setting them to the side so they’d already have a venue to watch ready.

When Kurt was done with that, his eyes were pricking with tears and he could feel his composure cracking as he took in the movies that hadn’t been touched in so long. Would any of them begin where his mother had left off?

He shook the thoughts away, standing back up and walking over to couch again; where Heather was already happily situated with the remote in one hand and a bag of corn nuts in the other. Kurt lifted his side of the blanket pile and slipped under them, pulling his feet up onto the couch and making sure to keep some space between Heather’s feet and his.

Heather watched him for a few minutes as Kurt got himself situated, and Kurt made sure not to meet her eyes. “Well? You’re the one with the remote; start the movie.”

Heather tossed him her notebook, the pad of paper landing with a dull thud on his lap. He glanced at it, frowning as he read it.

_"What, no complaints or anything?”_

“Heather,” Kurt sighed, handing her the notebook once again. “I’m tired and have had a shitty day. I don’t fucking _care_ anymore. Just start the damn movie.”

Heather frowned at him, studying him again, and Kurt sunk lower onto the couch. “Heather—“

She held up her hands in surrender, pressing start as she did. Kurt sighed as The Muppet Movie started playing; closing his eyes and letting the sound of memories long gone ease away his fear.


	7. A Man of Many Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little inside scoop as to what's running through Paul's head

Paul Kelly was by no means a simple man.

He knew that what his apparently-gay-son was going through was hard; difficult even for the toughest of men. He knew Kurt was afraid of _something_ , but he couldn’t find out what. He knew that he was like his son; in love with a man he could never have because society was cruel and unusual to those different from them.

He knew that Kurt was never going to be the same after the incident.

Hell, the changes were there already.

His son may not realize it, but Paul was not blind. He had known Kurt had been far too like his father from the ripe young age of 11. He could hear the nightmares his son faced alone in his room at night, very clearly see the way he flinched at loud bangs and was far quieter than before. He could see how Kurt was trying to keep it together with a frayed string that was destined to break.

Paul Kelly was also: an incredibly stupid man.

He wanted to be there for Kurt, he really did; but each time he looked at Kurt and his son cowered or cried, he saw red. Kurt was supposed to be strong, terrifying; an immovable wall. Paul had been determined to make Kurt a bully and a man, instead of the bullied and this—this _weakling_ he had become. Nothing should have made his star of a son plummet so hard from grace, and yet, a month ago Kurt and Ram had both decided they’d given up. They had decided they would end it all.

He may have been aware of how alike he and Kurt were, but he had been completely blindsided by just how similar Kurt was to his mother outside of his looks.

“Oh, Mary,” He sighed, looking up at the sky as he stood between his house and Bill’s, “He takes after you far more than he ever will me.”

The girl that had visited their boys in the hospital had left his home hours ago; back when the sun had just been dipping into the horizon. Now, the moon was high in the sky, bathing the block in pale blue as stars twinkled in the night air. Bill’s TV lights flashed from inside his home, Paul’s friend having fallen asleep an hour ago.

Paul had decided that that was a sign it was time for him to go home.

He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath.

He was happy he still had his son to hold and care for, but their family was officially the laughing stock of the town, and Paul had been far too close to losing his son like he had lost his mother. He couldn’t lose him, too.

Paul sighed again as he crept into his home, not wanting to wake Kurt up from what little sleep he could get. He didn’t know what to do, and his default mode was to get angry. Bill was right- he couldn’t keep acting like this. If he did, Kurt might really—

He paused halfway up the steps, a lump forming in his throat. He squeezed his eyes shut, shaking his head violently. No. _No._ He wasn’t going to think of that.

After a few minutes, Paul started climbing the steps again; pausing once more outside Kurt’s door. It was closed tightly-- probably locked. After that first night Paul had succumbed to a flood of angry and shame and he had locked his son in his room, he had panicked at seeing it closed the next night and tried to opening it only to find it locked. He had used his skeleton key to open it only to see Kurt curled up, shaking, in the corner of the room.

He had yelled at him again.

The door has stayed locked every night since, and if Paul tried to open it Kurt would beg him not to. Paul respected his wishes—it was the least he could do, considering he let his anger take control almost every other time they were near each other.

Still, he was terrified to one day wake up to a still-closed door, and no Kurt downstairs eating breakfast or getting ready for school.

Slowly, Paul took heavy steps past Kurt’s room and towards his own, fighting the urge to check.

Bill had suggested anger management, but they didn’t have enough money. Kurt’s medical bills were already high, but Paul was pouring all he could into helping Bill pay for Ram’s bills as well.

He may have damaged his relationship with Kurt even further; but if Paul could keep him from having such a broken look ever again, he’d do everything in his power to help bring Ram back from the brink of death.

Paul Kelly was a man of many things. Heartless, however, was not one of them.


End file.
